This Man Thinks He's Jesus H. Christ!

"I don't believe in sin and I don't do anything I want," says De Jesús, "because once you know the truth, the truth will make you free. Why hurt people? Why hurt yourself?"

At the age of 40, De Jesús heeded the voice's command to pack up his wife and kids and move to Miami, where he scored a 15-minute daily radio spot and began broadcasting his controversial sermons. Other radio preachers soon attacked his message and, as you would expect, this only made him more famous.

After being on the air for only three months, he rented a warehouse and invited listeners to a weekend seminar. More than 500 people showed up, he says, and Creciendo en Gracia was born.

The church doesn't keep records of membership, but media rep Poessy says Creciendo en Gracia now has more than 300 education centers in more than 30 countries, and De Jesús's weekly sermons are aired on more than 120 TV stations, including Channel 61 (KZJL) in Houston.

As the church has grown, De Jesús's message has veered further and further away from mainstream Christianity, a move he says eventually led to the breakup of his first marriage: "She said, 'No, no, no. I'm tired of changes.' I said, 'Let's go step by step.' And we lasted a long time, but eventually she left me because of it."

He began referring to himself as the Apostle, although, contrary to published reports, he never claimed to be the reincarnation of Paul. And then two years ago, after being prodded by his parishioners, he pulled the trigger and declared himself the Second Coming of Christ.

"It was tough for me, because already I was being persecuted," he says. "I thought about it for years."

When people wonder about his progression, ask him why it took him more than 30 years to decide he was Christ, he says, "Well, it's like you. You were a young man, then you got married, then you became a father, then your kids have kids and you became a grandfather. You grow into things in life."

De Jesús has grown into some lavish tastes. According to his daughter/accountant Joann De Jesús, his salary last year was $136,000, but that doesn't count all the gifts he received from wealthy devotees. He's quite the clotheshorse, often seen sporting fine suits and gold jewelry, and he drives a 7 series BMW. When the Houston Press visited him at his Missouri City home, he joked that reporters always liked to talk about his Rolexes, but "now it is no more Rolex, that's the problem. Now I went to Miami, to a group of businessmen, and they gave me a Pasha," a Cartier watch encrusted with enough diamonds to finance the overthrow of a small African government.

Charismatic leader with messianic tendencies? Check. Unwavering devotion from his followers? Check. Buckets of cash? Check.

Yep, that's right; it's time to play Is This a Cult?, the exciting game where you, the reader, get to decide whether or not we've got another Waco or Jonestown on our hands.

Some folks in Miami seem to think so. When reporter Mariah Blake first broke the story of De Jesús in English for Miami New Times, a sister paper of the Press, she interviewed Regina Albarracin, the mother of a man who had devoted his entire life to Creciendo en Gracia.

"They're stupid people who believe in stupidities," said Albarracin. "They're like those people in Waco, Texas. When you go there, you get brainwashed."

After Blake's story came out, Creciendo en Gracia got its own page on RickRoss.com, a site devoted to tracking destructive cults.

De Jesús has heard these accusations before. His response: "Anything people don't understand, they call it a cult. Because we are new. But I could call them a cult. A false cult. I'm a cult of truth, a truthful cult."

There are big differences between himself and the likes of David Koresh or Jim Jones, he says. "Number one: They didn't have the gospel of uncircumcision, which caused fear. We preach a different gospel. And number two: My people are too wise. Whatever I say to them, they say, 'Where is that written?'"