My friend, and mentor, the great Quaker Douglas V. Steer, tells a story that comes out of Maine.  A short in stature young blacksmith in a small town fell in love with a tall local girl, but he was so short that he was too bashful to tell her.  One day she came into the smithy to call for a tea kettle that he had fixed for her and she had thanked him so nicely that he suddenly found courage to ask her to marry him. She consented and he got up on the anvil and put his arms around her and sealed it with a kiss.  Then they took a walk out through the fields together and after some time he asked her for another kiss.  When she refused, he said, "Well, I'm not going to carry this anvil any longer." (Printed 1978 for Wider Quaker Fellowship with permission of Douglas V. Steer) 

There comes a time when we put the anvil down because we can keep trying too long. It's not easy but we have to find that rhythm, that balance, between not giving up too soon but also not continuing too long. There is a time to stop trying. When things do not work and you know it; when people do not respond and you feel it; when the situation goes from bad to worse and you can do nothing about it; when a broom is not enough to hold back the flood swollen river from your door. In Nazareth, Jesus met opposition He perceived as unyielding, so He stopped trying and He went elsewhere to minister. When He sent out the disciples on their mission, He advised them: "If any place will not receive you and they refuse to hear you, leave and shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them." We can keep trying too long.