One Goal, Undivided

 The Theology of the Unscattered Arrow

By Harold Mawela, from my study in Akasia, Pretoria

The Diagnosis: A Nation of Scattered Arrows

From my window in Akasia, I watch the Jacaranda trees prepare to bloom and the N14 crawl with cars carrying a thousand ambitions in a single direction and none at all. We are a people of immense potential, are we not? We have the most sophisticated constitution on earth, the richest mineral soil beneath our feet, and a youth population bursting with digital fluency that rivals Silicon Valley. Yet we stand at the crossroads of promise and paralysis, clutching a dozen good things while missing the one great thing.

Consider the streets of Johannesburg this very week. Residents banged plastic water bottles in Melville, protesting a municipality that cannot keep water in their taps . A nation holds its breath as 510 SANDF members deploy to KwaZulu-Natal to quell violence born of misinformation . Our politics fractures, our infrastructure groans, our elections loom . And into this swirling vortex of national distraction, the Spirit of God whispers a question that cuts deeper than any headline: What is the one thing?

The scattered arrow rarely hits its target, no matter how strong the bow. And my friend, we have strong bows. We have passionate believers, gifted entrepreneurs, brilliant scholars. But we have diluted our draw.

The Investigation: The Physics of Spiritual Combustion

Let us define our terms with the precision of a mathematician and the reverence of a theologian. Concentration, in the Kingdom of God, is not the mere narrowing of attention. It is the gathering of the soul’s scattered fragments into a single, blazing point of obedience. It is what the old Puritan John Owen called “the mortification of the tangential” the deliberate execution of every good pursuit that wages war against the best pursuit.

The Scripture declares unequivocally in Philippians 3:13: “Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal.” The apostle Paul does not say “I stroll” or “I meander.” He says I press. The Greek word diōkō carries the force of a hunter pursuing prey, a persecutor chasing a fugitive. It is aggressive. It is single-minded. It is the opposite of the multi-tasking madness we have baptized as “productivity.”

Now, consider the argument, formulated thus:

Premise One: Energy, whether physical or spiritual, obeys the law of conservation. It cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred and directed.

Premise Two: Every human being possesses a finite quantum of willpower, attention, and creative force in any given season.

Premise Three: Therefore, the multiplication of goals necessarily divides the quantum of force available to each, resulting in diminished impact per pursuit.

The conclusion is unavoidable: Scattered effort produces smoke. Focused effort produces fire.

A common objection arises here. “But Harold,” you say, “surely a Christian must be busy about many things! Did not Jesus heal the sick, teach the crowds, train the Twelve, and confront the Pharisees all in the same three years?” Ah, but watch the Master closely. He never did everything. He did the thing. He declared, “I only do what I see the Father doing” (John 5:19). He walked past entire villages riddled with disease to reach one woman at a well. He withdrew from crowds that clamored for more miracles to pray in solitude. Jesus was not a scattered arrow. He was the arrow of God, forged in eternity, aimed at Calvary, and released in the fullness of time.

The Resolution: The Law of the Singular Assignment

Let me give you a personal parable from my own life. Years ago, in the early days of my ministry here in Akasia, I was the archetypal South African hustler for the Kingdom. I led a cell group in Soshanguve, mentored young men in Mamelodi, sat on a community forum in Akasia, preached at three different churches on rotation, and sold insurance on the side to keep maize meal on the table. I was busy. I was exhausted. And I was producing smoke.

One Tuesday morning, during load-shedding, I sat in the dark with a candle flickering on my desk and a question burning in my chest: Why is nothing growing? The Spirit answered with a violence that startled me: Because you are watering ten gardens with one bucket.

I repented. I resigned from two committees. I ended the insurance side-hustle. I told one church I could no longer preach there. And I took the entire bucket of my energy and poured it on the one thing: the teaching and writing ministry that God had clearly anointed me for. Within eighteen months, the fruit was undeniable—not because I had become more talented, but because I had become concentrated.

The law is this: You will never possess what you are unwilling to pursue exclusively. The man who chases two rabbits catches neither. The woman who spreads her perfume on ten garments produces no fragrance on any. The church that does everything for everyone eventually does nothing for anyone.

Is this not the deeper tragedy of our national life? We have a government that promises housing, water, electricity, employment, safety, and social cohesion all at once, and delivers a diluted shadow of each . We have a church that preaches prosperity, healing, deliverance, social justice, and political engagement in the same service, and leaves saints confused and anemic. Concentration is not narrow-mindedness. It is combustion.

The Embodiment: Practical Protocol for the Pressing Saint

How then shall we live? Let me give you a protocol for this week.

First, ask the Spirit the singular question. Not “What are all the good things I should do?” but “What is the one thing for this season?” Write it down. Make it a sentence of seven words or fewer. If you cannot fit it on a sticky note, it is not a goal; it is a fog.

Second, perform the ruthless arithmetic. List everything you currently give weekly energy to—ministries, hobbies, side hustles, committees, social obligations. For each, ask: Does this feed the one thing, or does it merely feel like faithfulness? The African proverb says, “A man who tries to climb ten trees at once will remain on the ground.” Be honest. Cut the tangential with surgical precision.

Third, protect the furnace. Once the goal is clear, guard it like a laager. Say no without apology. The most spiritual word in the believer’s vocabulary is sometimes a firm, cheerful “no.” Jesus said no to the crowds. Paul said no to Barnabas. Nehemiah said no to the committee that wanted him to come down from the wall (Nehemiah 6:3). You will never finish the wall if you keep descending to negotiate with distractors.

Fourth, pour the majority there. Not the majority of your leftover energy—the majority of your first-fruits energy. The morning hours. The sharpest thoughts. The best creativity. The deepest prayer. Give your prime to the one thing, and let the scraps go to the periphery.

The Closing Call

The Psalmist declares, “My heart is not lifted up, O Lord; my eyes are not raised too high. I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul” (Psalm 131:1-2, ESV). The most powerful posture before God is not the frantic flailing of a thousand half-obediences. It is the still, fixed gaze of a soul that has found its one thing and will not be moved.

Therefore, reason itself, illuminated by Scripture and confirmed in the deepest longings of your Akasia-born soul, compels you to ask: What is the singular goal for this season that would make every other pursuit lighter or unnecessary?

Find it. Fix your eyes on it. And let the fire fall.

Prayer: Lord, I confess the sin of scattering. I have called it busyness, I have called it faithfulness, I have called it being “involved.” But You call it unbelief. Forgive me. Focus my energy on the one thing You have called me to for this season. Make my life a single flame, not a drifting smoke. In Jesus’ name, Amen.