When I first met Tiffany Aching, a character in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books, she was a nine-year-old with bare feet, a frying pan in hand, and a stubborn determination to protect her brother from the monsters bursting from the river. I didn’t expect to see Jesus in her. But the more I read, the more I do. And I’ve read Tiffany’s sub-series of books so many times now. I even transcribed a couple!
I’ll admit, I hesitated for a very long time writing this. Tiffany is a witch, after all, and in Christian circles, that word can shut down conversation before it starts. However, Terry Pratchett’s Discworld witches are not what Hollywood made us fear. They don’t wave wands for spectacle or dance with dark powers. They serve. They sit with the dying. They deliver babies. They herd sheep. They bury the dead. They keep watch in the quiet hours while everyone else goes about their lives. That’s what witching means in Discworld and in Tiffany’s home, the Chalk. It sounds a lot like discipleship to me.
Tiffany’s faithfulness is not glamorous, but it is relentless. She doesn’t use her power to impress or intimidate. She uses it to show up and to do the thing that needs doing. To bind wounds, sweep floors, comfort widows, and stand in the doorway when danger comes calling. Isn’t that the way of Jesus? He didn’t build palaces or court emperors. He washed feet. He touched lepers. He fed hungry crowds with what looked like not enough. Tiffany’s frying pan is her loaves and fishes…ordinary things made holy through love.
Her grandmother, Granny Aching, looms large in the background of Tiffany’s story. A woman of flinty practicality, Granny Aching cared for the land and its people with quiet devotion. Tiffany carries that legacy forward, and in doing so, she reminds me of how we inherit the way of Christ: a call to steady, embodied love that doesn’t seek recognition but refuses to look away from suffering.
Here’s what I see:
- Practical service. Tiffany’s magic is never for show. Jesus healed quietly and often asked people not to tell. Both point to service as the heart of power.
- Bearing burdens. Tiffany shoulders responsibility before anyone else volunteers. Jesus bore the full weight of humanity’s brokenness on the cross.
- Rooted love. Tiffany belongs to the Chalk and its people. Jesus belonged to his Father and to us, his sheep.
Of course, Tiffany isn’t Jesus. She’s a fictional witch, drawn with satire and whimsy by one of the sharpest writers of our age. But maybe that’s the point. God’s truth and love have a way of showing up in unlikely places—resonating with us across diverse, even divisive, backgrounds (more to come on that, Pratchett was not a Christian). Grace leaks into stories we never expected. And sometimes, a shepherd’s granddaughter with a frying pan shows us what it means to live faithfully in small, stubborn acts of love.
Tiffany Aching will never appear in a Bible commentary, but when I see her courage, practicality, and refusal to turn away from the hard work of caring for others, I can’t help but know: this, too, is the Jesus way.
Rowdy and Redeemed 