I went to dinner recently with a law student whose parents are from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. As we ate and shared, I tried to recall everything I had read about the DR Congo on BBC's website or in history textbooks. But my mind blanked.

What year did Zaire become the DR Congo? When did they gain their independence? And did their stint with Marxism-Leninism ever end?

The next morning, as coffee brewed, I decided to reeducate myself on the DR Congo's history, people, and beautiful terrains. My first questions were close to home. "If I were a Congolese woman, what would my life be like? What are their standards of beauty, roles in the home, recent accomplishments?"

As I typed "Congolese women" in my browser, I assumed the search would yield websites on their literature, political developments, and colorful printed fabrics.

Instead, page after page was all about rape. War crimes. FDLR rebels (a remnant of Hutu forces) systematically destroying the reproductive capabilities of women. A 13-year-old girl tied to a tree and raped by passing soldiers for several days at a time. Besides a few charity efforts, few websites actually celebrated Congolese women; one article celebrated a doctor for his reconstructive surgeries of them.

Gaping in disbelief, I then Googled "American women." Immediately, links to songs, literature, "famous firsts" of American women, and women-only fitness centers popped up. Most links celebrated their beauty and strength.

The difference between my two searches couldn't have been more drastic.

The results grieved me for days.

Since then, the violence in DR Congo has continued. Yesterday, the United Nations reported that some 500 Congolese women, girls, and babies have been raped since late July.

In response, some U.S. authorities are calling for more legislation and aid.

Others argue that an economic recession is no time to reach out. Given U.S. unemployment rates, some call humanitarian intervention a "conflict of interest." (Similarly, the U.S. administration declared, "we have no interest in Rwanda" when asked to help contain the 1994 genocide; today's economic hard times have further paralyzed leaders from taking action.)

As government officials take turns airing their say, Jesus' actions remain steady. In Samaria, Jesus went to the well and found the woman right where she was. He met her specific needs. He healed her where she was most broken. No longer irreparable, she returned to her town and spread messages of his living water.

Today is no different. In the face of such evil and chaos, God is piecing DR Congo's women and their communities back together. He is turning broken women into strong survivors who share messages of hope.

In her 2009 book, Kingdom Without Borders, anthropology professor and CT contributing editor Miriam Adeney explains,

Water is a better metaphor than blood for [women in eastern Congo] … Jesus offers living water, cleansing and purifying. Jesus also restores what has been stolen …. Strangely, the thought of Jesus hanging naked on the cross also comforts these women. Often they have been left naked and bleeding by the side of the road …. They have had to crawl until they could find help. It has been very shameful. Jesus' shame soothes them. Out of such healing ministries remarkable forgiveness has grown.

One such ministry is the Congo Initiative (CI), which trains indigenous women and men to lead their nation well. Since its inception in 2002, CI has started a university, a center for professional development, abuse rehabilitation, HIV/AIDS church mobilization, and vocational training including micro-enterprises.

Grassroots organizations like CI are small and young; perhaps their comprehensive approaches to building up DR Congo's citizens one by one will slowly contain the deadliest conflict since WWII.

Until then, the Cross makes it possible for them to have a sense of urgency anchored in an unwavering sense of peace.

Because of the Cross, you and I can also respond to the women of DR Congo with a sense of urgency basked in unwavering peace. There are a number of ways to weave your story with our sisters' across the sea—including through prayer, sponsoring their aftercare, or by wielding power as a citizen of a democratic country that lets your voice be heard.

If "we are all … one body—whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free," then every time one of our sisters in the DR Congo suffers, so do we. It's time we rise up and seek justice on their behalf. It's time we clothe our distant sisters with strength and dignity.

Davita Maharaj is pursuing a master's degree in international human rights law at Oxford University. She has written for Her.meneutics about human trafficking and Craigslist. You can find more about her on her website or follow her on Twitter.