I've always found the 'unwilling saint' trope weirdly relatable, even if I've never been tapped by a god for anything more dramatic than bringing chips to a party. There's this quiet desperation in the ones that truly land – it's not just grumbling about miracles being a hassle. It's the fear that by accepting the role, you erase yourself. The divine purpose becomes a script, and your own wants, even your own flaws which made you interesting, get written over.
One of my favorite takes was in 'The Saint of Brightwood', where the protagonist's power literally feeds on her genuine compassion. The more she helps people selflessly, the stronger she gets, but the church officials keep pushing her to perform staged miracles for political gain. Her entire struggle becomes about protecting the authenticity of her kindness from becoming a tool, which is such a raw, human conflict. The divine burden isn't the magic; it's the pressure to commodify the best part of yourself.
These stories often work best when the 'saint' finds loopholes in their own destiny, not through rebellion, but through a stubborn, very human interpretation of divine will. They'll heal the sick, sure, but maybe they'll also teach them to unionize against the exploitative temple that profits from their illnesses afterwards.